Juvenile
by Tahlia Mckinnon
Summary: Freddie finds solace in his cellmate as they both serve time. But soon, Cook finds out that the pair have more in common than they once thought, fuelling explosive consequences.  AU fic, but still true to the characters. ALL CHARACTERS WILL BE INCLUDED.
1. She doesn't belong to anybody

**I know this is a little different from my other fics, I wanted to keep this quite light hearted instead of constantly intense. I also really wanted to write from Freddie's perspective for once, as I find him a very interesting character, despite how he is often portrayed as boring. Their character traits remain the same in this fic, it's only the story that is different.  
Disclaimer: I do not own SKINS, but if I did, Freddie never would have died :( - R&R, hope you enjoy guys! x

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**  
I don't belong with them.  
Caged animals, starved of destruction, melting underneath their own stench of testosterone.

I'm Freddie, just Freddie.  
A healthy six foot three, with size eleven battered old trainers and long limbs that had sprouted from me forcefully, at the age of thirteen.

My eyes are innocent.  
My mouth is polite and proper.  
My arms are nurturing.

**But today, I enter the canteen a criminal.**  
**A statistic. Another scumbag from the Juvenile.**

I instantly feel uneasy, not that anybody pays me any attention.  
Sure, they _notice_ me. Caramel and skinny, drowning in a sea of white bulging biceps.  
But they have better confrontations to engage in, better faces to bore into.  
I am displaced within a blink of their murderous eyes.

"Cock blocker."  
A squeaky, inoffensive voice stands out stark within the rumble of thick, throaty growls.

I spot the speaker instantly. Ridiculous curly hair, grin all braces and gums. Perched on a chair, shuffling a pack of cards distractedly. Watched closely by the boy next to him, slumped on the table, strong set jaw and clouded, but penetrating eyes.  
"Sorry?" I frown, feeling suddenly defensive. Protective, maybe._  
You can't be a doormat now, Freddie, _I encourage myself.  
"I can instantaneously tell," he continues, glancing up at me, and then back to the deck. "Those bags underneath your eyes are as familiar to your skin, as your voice is to your ears. You're losing track of the days, track of the time, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…"  
My eyes widen in disbelief, and the older boy cackles heartily.  
"Jeremiah," he gestures, with a bob of his head. "Fucking fruit loop."  
We exchange a bemused smile.  
"I'm not a cock blocker," I state, with more confidence than may be necessary.  
The little toff rolls his eyes at me. "Of course _you're_ not. You're definitely not one to act on sexual impulse. You take your time, debate and debate and debate until it's too late, late, late," he babbles, his amazing accuracy setting my teeth on edge. "Pipped too the post, couldn't kiss the girl. Could you?" He eyes me, and it makes me uneasy. "No, you're not a cock blocker, but you're here because of one."  
The other boy senses my tension. "I'm Cook." He holds out a heavily scarred hand.  
I take it gratefully. "Freddie."  
"Freddie the fighter," Jeremiah scoffs. "In constant battle with his undisclosed desires."  
"What?" I feel my eyes boggling. He ignores this.  
"Do you believe in magic, Freddie?" he quizzes, brandishing a card. "Watch the ace." He pushes it into my bewildered face. "Keep watching the ace. Eyes glued to the ace." It disappears between his fingers. "Can you tell me where it is? Of course not. Because it's burning to a crisp in Vernon's ashtray over here."  
Jeremiah slides the ashtray across the table, the card incinerated within.  
Cook beats his hands upon the table, laughing uncontrollably.  
"They call me the intuition of the institution," he announces proudly. "But you can call me JJ."  
"Right. Pleasure."  
"Si'down mate." Cook pulls out a chair. "You're virgin to this dive."  
"Smell my fear?" I joke nervously.  
"It's stagnating the room," he winks.  
"Duty calls, gentleman." JJ jumps up, parting our company, others eyeing him hungrily on his trail.

"Excitable little bastard, isn't he?" I grin, taking a cigarette Cook offers me.  
"Brilliant, our Jay" he replies, lighting me up. "Quality entertainment."  
I nod.  
"So, Freddie. What mistake did you make?"  
I ponder for a moment. "I didn't kill him."  
Cook howls at me, tossing his head back "Caught him with your bird?"  
"She's not mine," I reply automatically. "She never was. She doesn't belong to anybody."  
"Ah, a law unto herself then," he agrees, understanding.  
"Something like that."  
"Well, chin up. You never know, if she pushes the self destruct button anytime soon you could be sharing a cell," he smirks sleazily. "But until then, you can have my top bunk if you like?"  
"Yeah, cool." I breathe a sigh of relief at one friendly face. "Cheers mate."  
**"Nah, don't thank me yet, Freds. You haven't seen the state of the place."**


	2. But those wounds heal

**Right, so I'm including some flashbacks - but in no particular order. Quite like '(500)daysofsummer' where they're all over the place, significant moments and all. Sort of like you're inside of Freddie's mind. The fic may contain hints of slash, so if you're not into that kind of thing - I plead with you to give me a chance, but if not, by all means leave harsh critisisms behind :) I find it easier to write shorter chapters such as this, but they will be more in-depth as the story continues. Be the first to review? I'd love you forever! x

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**  
"_Effy, I've been trying to call you - "  
Her hair is lightly tousled, make up mingling with streaks of sweat.  
She wears an expression of shame upon her painfully beautiful face.  
Alarm bells start to ring.  
And then you hear it._

_A boy's voice from the bathroom. _

_**And you flip.**_

_**

* * *

**_

I'm debating whether to hurl up the lukewarm, greying canteen mash that lines the pit of my stomach - or break down into hysterical sobs.  
I pick the former.  
It's not as queer.

"Whoa," Cook chuckles, as I throw forward my face into the corner of the cell, guts forcing their way up through my raw, constricting throat. "Never had _that _reaction before…"  
He paces around with his hands in his tracksuit bottom pockets, waiting for me to gather my composure.  
It takes me a while, forehead and elbows pressed onto the stone cold wall.  
Eventually, I find the strength to look again.

Shit stained bed sheets.  
Corpses of dead cockroaches encrusted onto the walls.  
Maggots writhing around in a spot that reeks of stale piss.  
It feels like the place might burst into flames any second.

"Fuck," I breathe. "How do you live like this, man?"  
Cook shrugs. "Got no choice, Freddie. Just gotta deal with what life hands you."  
Oh, I know that one all too well.

Mum's death, Dad's favouritism, Effy's betrayal.  
The only talent I _have_ is dealing with what life hands me.  
Well, that and skateboarding - but _those _wounds heal.  
The others take practice.

Cook juts his chin towards the soiled bottom bunk.  
"Kid used to get a little nervous, didn't adjust too well. Must'a been around twelve. Used to hear him whimpering all the fucking time. Couldn't help it, I suppose," he explains, shaking his head sadly.  
He points to it's pair, slapping his hand against the iron ladder.  
"That one was Arnie's. Some cadet, had his legs blown off - got bionic ones. That was enough embarrassment, so he saved his shitting for the showers, at least."  
"Well," I swallow hard, absorbing it all, willing myself to wake up from this harsh reality. "I appreciate it, Cook. Clean mattress and all."  
"Oh, it's hardly clean," he cackles at me, squeezing my shoulder with his meaty hand. "But at least you won't have to worry about that god awful smell." He taps his nose. "I've dabbled in cocaine a'plenty. I'm practically desensitised."  
"I see," I smile weakly, wishing I had a spliff between my fingers. Anything to numb this moment.

"Right," Cook says, jumping onto his bed, sprawling himself out. "Might as well make yourself comfortable, Freds. First night is always the worst."  
**I wince, and climb the ladder.**


	3. Sick of feeling embarrassed

**Again, starting with a flashback - you guys are just going to have to get used to that :) As promised, all characters from both generations will make an appearance at some point. I've never written with Tony before, did I do him justice? I always appreciate reviews, and if you take the time to write, I'll take the time to reply - and incorporate your advice into future chapters. Keep with me, we're starting off slow, but that's just to set the suspense ;) x  


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**  
"_Avert those eyes, young Freddie. I wouldn't waste my time if I were you."  
Tony laughs dryly, pulls up a barstool and buys you another double vodka.  
You knock it back with the flick of your wrist, still fixated with the dirty brunette dancing under the spotlight of the club's attention._  
"_Feeling threatened, Casanova?" you smirk.  
You're not particularly close to Tony, more friends of friends, but you know him well enough to spot his prey._  
"_Don't be vile," Tony frowns, turning on his seat to face you and pursing his spiteful mouth. "The sprog your mentally undressing happens to be my sixteen year old sister."  
You choke on the resonating dregs of your drink._  
"_Sister? Shit, Tony. I had no idea -"_  
"_S'okay," he shrugs casually. "It's not as if you stand a reasonable chance, anyway. By all means, gawp all you want - you don't need my consent."  
He makes to leave, but you rein him back with your sharp and wounded tone._  
"_Hey, that's a little uncalled for. I'm a pretty attractive guy, Tony. So just watch you mouth, okay?"  
He leans in towards you then, face inches from yours. He's smug at your hurt expression._  
"_She wouldn't look twice at you," he sneers. "You've practically a halo on that scruffy little mop of yours." He ruffles your hair, patronising you. As always, you stay silent and contained._  
"_You're just not interesting enough, Freddie. Effy's a Stonem. And we don't whore around with bores."_

_

* * *

_  
I'm bolt upright, suddenly awake, practically convulsing.  
I rub frantically at my goosebumped arms, the thin quilt a feeble protection from hypothermia.  
Then come the tears, thick and fast and humiliating.

**But for once, I've stopped caring.**

I'm lashing out - just like I did when I laid into that little scumbag taking my place in her bed._  
What has she done to me? I've become a monster. _

"Freds," Cook calls into the darkness, and with a squeak from the ladder, I feel his breath against my whitewashed face. "Hey, it's okay mate."  
I let him sidle into my bed, shivering uncontrollably, and letting the sobs ache at my chest.  
Cook pulls the quilt tight around us both, draping one arm around my shoulder - the warmth from his body radiating through me. "Don't worry, Freddie. I'm here. I'm here."

* * *

I'm expecting the loud rattling of bat against iron bars to disturb me.  
Calls of 'cold showers' and a march across some wasteland to follow.  
The routines that Hollywood blockbusters lay down for you. Presentations featuring Tom Hanks and Sean Penn spelling out what prison really stands for.

But instead, as I peel back my eyelids and my bleary vision begins to focus, I hear a small crowd cheering from a room just outside of my cell.  
There are no bats. No bars. No screams or protests.

"Come on!"  
"Get him, JJ!"  
"He's hot on your tail!"

I tentatively slip down from my bunk, bare feet slapping on the concrete as I pad along - following the jeers.  
They're all boxed in around JJ and some ginger, beefy little thug. Consoles in hand, Mario Kart in play, slaps on backs and encouraging nudges from the cellmates that surround them.  
I actually can't believe what I'm seeing.

State of the art PS3, plasma screen, Dr Peppers all round.  
I rub at my eyes.

Cook spots me, but refuses to keep eye contact. For my benefit, I'm guessing.  
But I'm sick of feeling embarrassed. Everything I'd felt last night was normal.  
The cold sweat, and all.  
**Hey, at least I wasn't shitting myself.**

"Put some welly into it, Jay" Cook growls, taking a slug from his can.  
I grab my own, and try to join the party.


	4. Whiney little bitch fit

**First off, I'd really appreciate some REVIEWS! This poor little story is lacking in attention! ;) Without any feedback, I'll just continue garbling on with what you could consider 'absolute shite' as an audience - don't say I didn't warn you! Secondly, I've noticed the chapters are actually getting shorter! I plan to have a huge chapter for number five, piecing together a few loose ends that have already cropped up :) So, keep loving Freddie, keep reading and keep drowning me with harsh thoughts and feelings - Taaa x**

**

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**  
"_I'm Freddie," you shout over the music. "You know, Freddie Mcclair? Your brother's mate."  
You wait while her seemingly disinterested eyes flit from your face to your body and back again._  
"_I know who you are," she replies, her bored tone surprisingly prominent, even over the roar of the bassline. "You're Karen's brother, aren't you." It's a statement, not a question - and you stand there feeling stupider by the second as she carries on grinding with the boy dancing behind her._  
"_Yeah, that's me," you finally validate. "I was wondering…"  
He slaps her arse, the boy, and she throws her head back into an intoxicated giggle, distracting you._  
"_I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?"_  
"_Fuck off mate," the boy snickers, his hands travelling down her curves.  
It's making you sick, the way he's smirking at her, touching her, encaging her.  
You scan the crowd in desperation, and spy Tony staring at you knowingly - that smug grin still plastered across his pinched little face. He raises his glass in your direction, before turning to his friends in a fit of hysterics. Frustrated, you clasp Effy's arm, her piercing eyes firing open and narrowing at you._  
"_It's just a drink," you shrug, sheepishly.  
She's considering you, but the boy behind persists - his fingers snaking down her thigh and underneath her skirt. She locks eyes with you, as she whips her foot back, catching him in the bollocks. The boy staggers backwards, screaming out profanities._  
"_Okay, Freddie Mcclair," she smiles deviously. "Make mine a whiskey."  
She lets you take her hand and lead her back towards the bar, your jeans growing tighter by the second. _

_

* * *

_  
"What the fuck was that?" I exclaim in hoarse whispers, as Cook and I are ushered back to our cell. "We're here to be punished, right?"  
Cook slumps onto his bed, chewing his dirty nails distractedly. "Don't be such a fun sponge, Freddie" he sighs. "You won't make friends that way."  
"Friends?" I struggle to contain the exasperation tainting my voice. "I'm not here to make fucking _friends, _Cook."  
He shoots me a dark look. "Fine, but trust me, you don't wanna be making no enemies neither."  
I slouch back against the wall, running my hands back through my hair in frustration. "This just doesn't sit right, y'know?"  
"We've got enough on our plates, Freds. Whas' the point in stewing over it."  
"It's just - It's not fair." I'm aware that my whiney little bitch fit isn't exactly a bonus of a first impression, but my anger is so intense, it masks everything else.  
Cook sniggers at me, and I feel my face flush. "Life ain't fair, mate. If it were, we wouldn't be sitting behind these bars in the first place, would we?"  
I snort at his obtuse denial. "I hardly believe you're here undeservedly, Cook - don't kid yourself."

Suddenly, he has me up against the wall by my shirt collar, hands worryingly tight around my throat. I struggle to catch my breath, try to push him away by his elbows, but his lower body is pressed so close into mine that I'm paralysed.

"You don't know fuck all about me, Freddie" he growls through gritted teeth. "Fuck all. So just keep your mouth SHUT."  
He shakes and slams me against the wall at the last word, before releasing me and storming out into the corridor.

**"Alright, alright" I murmur under my shaky breath. "Jesus."**


	5. I have said too much

**I know I promised a HUGE chapter, but I ensure you - that'll be the next one. Again, this is just to build up some suspense, and get you thinking more about things. I'm a bitch, I know :)**

**

* * *

**  
"_Freddie, please." She exhales shakily, tears welling in those hypnotic eyes._  
"_Who is he?" you reason, calmly - although your hands are curling into fists.  
The unknown speaker continues singing, humming, whatever it is you do when you're taking a post-shag piss._  
"_He's -" she starts, voice catching in her throat. "He's just a boy."  
You screw your eyes shut, breathing forcefully through your nose.  
She's up on her dainty little feet, placing her tender hands on your chest, still warm from her bed._  
"_Just go, Freddie. Just leave me to clean this up, okay?"_

_And then he's there, beside you both. _

_Giving you the once over, naked torso, one hand scratching beneath his boxers.  
He cocks his head at you, darkly._  
"_Who the fuck is this?" he grunts, squaring up to you.  
Effy stands there helplessly as you smack your forehead into the bridge of his nose.  
_

_Because you don't know how to answer.  
You don't know who you are, what you are, what you mean to her. _

_All you know is that every blow to his skull feels so fantastic against your knuckles, and every snap of his bones like sweet jazz to your ears.  
You don't stop until he's gurgling on his own blood; Effy's screams making your vision swim.

* * *

_

"I hope they think to bring me September's issue of 'Air And Space'," JJ mumbles, unusually contained and tense compared to his manic displays so far. He pushes the cold spaghetti around his plate; Cook hasn't even touched his. Hasn't even spoken, or looked in my direction. Not once.

It's putting me on edge.

"It should be the XB-70 Legend and Legacy edition this month." JJ looks up at me, mouth crooked in a grimace. "Who's coming for you, Frederick?"  
"Sorry?" I quiz, sitting up straighter, having not really listened.  
"It's Wednesday visits tomorrow," he sighs. "I suppose Chris will come, with my Mother of course."  
"Probably my sister, Karen," I nod, forking some pasta into my drying mouth. "That's if she knows the drill."  
"Well, I would suggest you leave your immediate family to the Friday, which is what standard procedure states," JJ babbles. "I, for one, don't have a respectable number of friends - if any at all. So nobody really takes any priority."  
"How about you, Cook?" I dare. "Who are you expecting?"

Cook flexes his right hand at the mention of this, cracking his knuckles.

JJ fills his childish silence. "Oh, it will most definitely be Naomi. If she wasn't a self confessed carpet muncher, I'd say she would have been a perfect suitor for James. Blonde, blonde, blonde. Bit of a bombshell, isn't she Cook? And, as ever, his Friday slot is empty. No Father, no Mother. It's quite a privilege really, I believe. Not to have elders worrying and snivelling all over you. James prefers to spend his Friday nights cry -"

Cook slams his hands on the table, drawing the attention of the whole canteen.

"How about you shut the fuck up, Jaykins?" he snarls, slapping him across the back of the head before jumping up and striding away.  
"Oh my," JJ blushes, as the other inmates break into whispers. "It appears I have said too much."  
**"You and me both, JJ," I sigh, squeezing his hunched shoulder. "You and me both."**


	6. Different sides of the planet

**Apologies for the late update, but Alevel coursework is dragging me down! Another unkept promise, but I will try my best to make the NEXT chapter one that ties a few loose ends together. Enjoy :) x

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**

_The barman pours out her glass and she sips at the dark liquid, looking at you from underneath her eyelashes.  
You wait for her to finish - completely mesmerized by the soft movements of her guzzling throat, and the way she purses her lips. She fingers the rim of the empty glass as she talks to you, words stumbling drunkenly over each other._

"_Your sister's one of the SEXXBOMBS, isn't she?" she asks, the corners of her mouth curling into a malicious smile. It matches her brother's and it makes your skin crawl and your balls ache all at the same time. You nod, knock back a shot. Wipe your mouth with the back of your hand._  
"_Incredible dancer," she continues, licking her bottom lip. "Have you been to her shows?"_  
"_A few," you mumble, wishing she'd talk about anything else other than your fucking self-obsessed sister._  
"_Like watching her, did you?" she scoffs, arching an eyebrow.  
You understand then what she's getting at - and it dawns on you that she's just as sick and twisted as her brother.  
You cough uncomfortably, and shift in your seat, her eyes like hot coals boring into your soul.  
You want to get up and leave.  
This was a mistake.  
She's just a little kid, practically.  
_

_But then she reaches down underneath the bar, her hands gently palming between your thighs, rooting you to the spot. She leans forward in her seat, her face mere inches from yours, hands grabbing faster.  
Hungrily. _

_You feel like you're going to explode. _

_

* * *

_

"I don't wanna talk about it."  
"I'm worried about you."  
"You don't even fucking know me."  
"But I wish I did."

Cook looks at me then. A quick glance, but I see pain behind his eyes.  
He wears an obvious vulnerability on his face, and it stings me that he thinks I'm too stupid to notice.

"Are they dead?" I ask tenderly, not wanting to push my luck any further.  
"I don't want to talk about it."  
"Why don't they come to visit?"  
"_Freddie, _I'm warning you."

And he means it, so I keep quiet. The mystery driving me mad. I prop my pillow behind my head, trying to loosen out some of the lumps.  
He's only in the bunk above me - but it feels like we're walking on completely different sides of the planet.

I suppose we are.


End file.
